


Pack Ties

by LaBelleetlaloup



Series: Forging a Pack [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, POV Sheriff Stilinski, POV Stiles, Season/Series 02, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7864699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleetlaloup/pseuds/LaBelleetlaloup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly different take on the season two finale.</p><p>In the same AU/timeline as "And Shift".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is continuing on from And Switch. Stiles still has a crush on Derek. There are the same level of hints that it's reciprocated. Nothing is confirmed, so again I didn't tag Underage, but be aware if that's going to bother you.

Stiles thought he probably ought to have been more surprised when the makeshift blindfold was removed and he was in a basement, looking up at Gerard Argent. The man was batshit insane.

“Hello,” the old man said evenly. There was something more frightening in his calm tone and content smile than if he had been snarling or cackling. Clearly, he felt no guilt over whatever it was he planned to do to Stiles. This did not give Stiles any comfort that he would not be doing anything a normal person would feel guilt about.

“Mister Argent,” he mumbled back after it was clear he was supposed to reply. Stiles heard a protesting noise behind him and had half turned his head before he thought about how stupid that was. Gerard back-handed him so his head snapped back to the front, but not before Stiles saw Erica and Boyd clearly in pain and restrained with black tape over their mouths. Thankfully, it didn’t feel like his nose was broken or that he had any cuts but Stiles still gingerly brought his hands up to check. No cuts. Probably some bruising, maybe even a black eye by morning.

“Now, there’s no need for you to make this any harder than it needs to be,” Gerard chided. He sounded more amused than anything.

“What’s the easy way?” Stiles asked. He heard a gasp behind him. That was probably Erica.

“No, I don’t need any information out of you,” Gerard gloated. “I have my own sources. I just need you to hold still for me. Do you think you can be a good little boy?” Stiles felt his system flood with terror and adrenaline. He scrambled to his feet. “I take it that’s a no?”

“To be fair, that sounded like you were going to take his pants off,” Allison’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Stiles spared her a brief glance. She looked like she didn’t care about his wellbeing any more than her grandfather did. Lovely.

“This whole setup looks exactly like that,” Stiles agreed. “You kidnap a teenage boy during the middle of a sports game. You blindfold him. You take him to a basement where you’ve been keeping two other teenagers for the past couple weeks. Then you ask him if he can be a good little boy? Pretty sure I saw this exact scenario on Dateline.”

Gerard’s face contorted in anger and he snarled his next words. “Those animals aren’t teenagers and I certainly don’t need to touch you to get my point across.” The calm had definitely been more frightening. Now Stiles had a place to start thinking from.

“What’s your point?”

“That crossing me is a very stupid thing to do.”

“Anyone who hasn’t already figured that out is clearly too stupid to function,” Stiles muttered. The man was obviously both cruel and out of touch with reality. “And why me? My father’s human and he doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.” It was more likely a message for one of the wolves but ruling out his only relative was the logical first step.

“You know your father is entirely irrelevant to me so long as he remains intelligent enough to stay out of my way,” Gerard scoffed dismissively.

“Those monsters you insist on keeping company with are a little more our concern.” Allison was smirking cruelly. So probably not Scott then.

“I don’t keep company with Derek’s pack,” Stiles insisted.

“I think you do, boy,” Gerard countered. “Now, can you keep still or do I have to make you?” Stiles heard a soft whimper. Was that him or Erica or Boyd? Did it matter? Gerard smacked him with the back of his hand again and Stiles stumbled with the force of the blow. He ended up back on his knees at Gerard’s feet.

“He’s already bruising,” Allison pointed out. Stiles glanced sideways at her. Although she did not look conflicted, she had a blank mask rather than a cruel expression. Maybe she felt conflicted? Gerard seemed to come to the same conclusion.

“It is a shame that we had to take the human, Allison.” Gerard had tempered his voice in a way likely intended to be soothing. Stiles found it grating. “But this human has given his loyalty to those animals. He’s all but an animal himself. Besides, this is for the best. You know that we cannot allow them to corrupt all the humans into their most basal selves.” Gerard paused. Here comes the sucker punch. “Think about what they did to your mother. What they could have done to your sweet friend, Lydia.” Oh, that was low. Stiles sort of gawked up at the man while his attention was on his granddaughter. Who pulled that kind of manipulative bullshit on their own family?

“You know, I think I may have underestimated the crazy,” Stiles murmured as quietly as he could. He heard some sort of coughing noise behind him. Gerard’s attention came back to their side of the room.

“Did someone switch the dial? This is a science!” Gerard sounded scandalized. He walked away from Stiles for a moment to scrutinize the machine that Erica and Boyd were hooked up to. Stiles took the moment to turn and get a good look in himself. It was a generator and they were being electrocuted. That wasn’t science! That’s torture!

“No one’s been down here,” Allison said flatly.

“Well, the dials are at the same settings,” Gerard conceded. He turned back. Stiles flinched back bodily at the attention returning to him. Half of him wanted to beg for mercy, but the other half knew that it would be more likely to make it worse. “You certainly are the smart one, aren’t you?” It sounded more condescending than complimentary.

“Well, of course Hale’s stupid. He’s a beast.” Allison seemed solid on that line. She both believed that Derek was stupid and Derek was the one they were sending a message to. Why would they have gotten Stiles to send a message to Derek, though? Something wasn’t quite adding up there. Stiles had no time to consider it though. Gerard had closed the distance between them. And the predator currently in front of you was the one you needed to focus on unless there was a second in your blind spot.

“Allison, won’t you go make sure your father’s getting everything together?” Gerard asked. He seemed to be attempting a sweet tone. Stiles was not buying it. Allison appeared to. Stiles heard retreating footsteps and the light from the doorway disappeared with the closing door.

“Hail Mary, Mother of God,” fell shakily from Stiles’ lips.

Gerard chuckled, “Yes, you might need her.” He dragged Stiles to his feet by the collar of his jersey and caught him in the ribs with his other fist. Stiles heard a crack before the pain set in, leaving him gasping for breath. Please let that rib not be broken. Please let it not pierce any organs. Gerard hit him again, eliciting another frightening sound from Stiles’ ribs. Then he let go of Stiles’ collar and Stiles crumpled to the floor. Gerard kicked him onto his back. Stiles had already been struggling to breathe steadily. The shock did not help. Gerard stared down at him dispassionately. “I think that might do. What do you think?”

“Hail Mary, Mother of God, Blessed are thee among women,” Stiles managed to get out in response.

“That sounded a little too much like back talk. If you can still do that, I’m not sure my message will get across. Of course, there’s no reason to kill you. Far easier for me if you can carry yourself back, of course. No police inquiry. But I don’t want there to be any confusion in my meaning.” Stiles decided to keep his mouth shut. The prayer kept running through his head though. “Of course…” Gerard murmured. His eyes actually lit up with some sort of glee. Stiles got the feeling it was not a good sign. “Irony, you understand.”

Unfortunately, Stiles understood all too well when Gerard’s thumb pressed on the place where his lip was already cracked. That didn’t stop the noise of pain and protest from coming out of his throat as Gerard made it much worse. The blood as it welled up dripped down his chin and ran down his throat. Gerard wiped his hand clean on Stiles’ jersey before he stood up.

“I better go see what’s taking my son so long to follow simple instructions. Stay there, won’t you?” As if Stiles was capable of getting up at that point. The moment the door closed behind Gerard, Erica and Boyd both started trying to fight free of their restraints, making loud noises of both pain and protest. Stiles made himself turn his head and open his eyes.

“I’m alright.” They were still struggling. “He’ll turn it up if you’re fighting when he comes back. You don’t want to make it worse.” The door opened again.

“How are you?” Chris asked. He seemed to be legitimately curious.

“Shit.”

“To be expected,” Chris said with a sigh. “I am sorry about this. I didn’t know.”

“I’ll heal soon enough. Pretty sure my ribs aren’t broken. But what is this? Chris, they’re kids. They have families. They’ve been put on the missing persons list.” Chris looked a little sheepish but he was still focused on trying to safely lift Stiles off the floor. Unacceptable. “You condone this and you’re in jail with your father and Allison’s in foster care. Do you really think she’s mentally in a position to handle that? She watched someone murder her aunt, no matter what Kate had done to deserve it that was her aunt, and then her mother commits suicide? I thought you loved your daughter.” Chris had reared back as though slapped.

“The police would have to find them first,” he insisted mulishly.

“You mean my father, the Sheriff, would have to find them?” Stiles countered. He was not leaving without them.

“Why are you moving so slowly today, Christopher?” Gerard asked from the top of the stairs.

“I’m trying to ensure any damage potentially done to his ribs doesn’t cause damage to his organs. We aren’t killing a human cop’s human kid. We’re Hunters, not murderers.”

“Oh, I think he’s playing it up, but of course you take it as slow as you need to, Christopher.”

“You can go ahead and head out. I’ll be right behind you.” There was a pause. Stiles wasn’t looking in Gerard’s direction.

“Very well. I’ll take Allison with me.”

“Of course,” Chris agreed through gritted teeth. Gerard’s footsteps retreated from the basement door. He called Allison’s name. There were footsteps. Moments later, the front door opened and closed. The cars started up outside.

Chris crossed to the generator machine and fiddled with the dials. Suddenly the hum of electricity was gone, more noticeable in the silence than the sound had been. Erica and Boyd both slumped a little in relief. Chris ripped the tape off their mouths. He detangled them from their restraints.

“Stiles!” Erica exclaimed in a hoarse voice, dropping immediately to his side.

“Go out the kitchen door. Take him home.” Chris ordered, not looking at them. Boyd lifted Stiles bodily off the ground and carried him up the stairs. Erica was bracing Boyd. Chris did not follow them. After the sucker punch Stiles had pulled on him that was expected. Luckily, it seemed that all the other Hunters had left with Gerard and Allison. The house was empty.

Boyd let Stiles down in the kitchen while he and Erica listened to ascertain there wasn’t a Hunter waiting outside the kitchen door. Once it seemed the coast was clear, they all three eased outside together. Stiles reached back to close the door behind them, but Erica and Boyd paused to wait on him. Once they had reached the street and still there was no sign of Hunters, Stiles opened his mouth again.

“I think I can get home by myself if you wanted to get to your own families.”

“No,” Boyd shook his head.

“You got us out,” Erica said. “Besides, we’d have to talk to the cops eventually, anyway.”

“Just more convenient?” Stiles tried to smile at his joke but it hurt. His bottom lip was split wide open and maybe one of those slaps had done more damage than he first thought because his cheek hurt. Erica winced, her hand fluttering towards his face and then away again.

The three of them managed to stagger all the way to Stiles’ house. Even with werewolf healing, electrocution was not something you could just shake off (unlike pizza food babies). Stiles was slowly noticing more and more places that he was in pain as he walked. His ankle was tender. His entire torso was on fire. His face hurt in several places: cheek, busted lip, blackening eye. One of his knees seemed to have gotten slightly out of place. It was very easy to get very badly injured when someone decided to rough you up a bit. Luckily, his heartbeat felt as steady as it ever was, and he wasn’t having too much trouble breathing. Ribs probably only bruised or fractured, not entirely broken, then.

Eventually they got back to Stiles’ house. His father’s car was in the driveway and all the lights were on inside. Stiles stopped at the edge of the driveway.

“Well, clearly dad’s home. So I guess I don’t need werewolf claws to pick the lock.”

“We’re not leaving,” Boyd said firmly.

“You’re pack,” Erica agreed.

“Pack,” Stiles echoed. He felt a flash of the camaraderie of that night they had all been sprawled across the floor in his room. “Well, then, let’s get inside so dad can fuss over us.” Stiles staggered forward a couple steps before regaining his balance. Erica and Boyd grabbed his arms gently, lending him their strength as they walked down the driveway and up to the door.

Boyd knocked. There was a moment in which Stiles had to fight to keep his eyes open. This close to home, he was ready to sleep for hours. The door flung itself open and all three of them startled.

“Stiles!”

“Sorry. Seem to have lost my key.”

“What happened?” His father grabbed his face, turning the bruises into the light. “God, this looks awful!”

“He hit the floor pretty hard,” Boyd agreed. Stiles noticed that Erica was closing the door behind them and she turned all the locks.

“Wait,” his father seemed to finally notice the other two. “You’re Erica. You’re Vernon. You two have been missing for weeks!”

“It’s been a long couple of weeks,” Erica agreed. “Can we have some water?”

“Food?” Stiles asked.

“Of course.” The Sheriff nodded and herded the three of them over to the couch. Stiles sat down gingerly, with Boyd’s help. Erica was just hovering with her hands out. “How badly are you hurt?”

“They don’t seem to be broken. Just bruised, hopefully,” Stiles answered.

“I heard an awful sound!” Erica protested.

“Maybe fractured,” he conceded. “But nothing’s pushing into any of my organs, at least.”

“Okay,” his father was frowning. “What about you two? You seem to be moving slowly. What should I tell the EMTs?”

“They were tazed,” Stiles managed to intercede. “Just still getting control over their nervous system.”

“It does take forever to feel normal again after that. Any burns from the hooks?”

“No,” Boyd answered this time. Erica shook her head.

“Thank God.”

“Hail Mary,” the Sheriff agreed. He pulled his walkie talkie off his hip while he retreated into the kitchen to get water and start fixing something for them to eat.

“Tazed?” Erica asked quietly.

Stiles answered in the same undertone. “It’s electricity. And even humans don’t show a lot of their reaction to electrocution. Even at the level of surviving being struck by lightning, it’s all headaches, nausea, stumbling… So it should keep the EMTs from being too surprised by the speed of your recovery.”

“That’s probably smart,” Boyd ran a gentle hand over Stiles’ hair. Stiles tilted into the motion just slightly.

“Okay, kids,” his dad walked back in carefully balancing three glasses of water in his hands. Boyd reached out and took the one precariously in the middle. Stiles and Erica took the other two. “Drink slowly but please try to finish the whole glass. The EMTs and a few of my deputies who are actually on duty are gonna be here pretty soon. They’re calling your parents, who will probably be over here too. Luckily for you, I’m the Sheriff so you don’t have to go in to the station. I know that place just freaks most kids out, even when you know you aren’t in trouble.”

“Thank you,” Erica smiled sweetly.

“I don’t want you to have to just repeat yourselves for the official statements, if that’s necessary because of this tazing incident, but where have you guys been for the past couple weeks?”

“Um…” Erica vocalized her confusion, even as she was looking to Stiles and Boyd for direction.

“We left home of our own accord,” Boyd said stiffly. He got Stiles’ father’s full attention with that tone and careful statement.

“Were you planning to be gone this long?”

“We didn’t have much of a plan, to be honest. It was kind of stupid,” Erica spoke up. The Sheriff’s eyes cut to her, looking suspiciously between the two teens.

“You were going to run away together? Seems like you either changed your mind and were headed back or you got detained not too far out. Wanna tell me which one?” Neither wolf was in any rush to answer.

Stiles was still trying to figure out how to minimize damage and cover the obvious holes of not mentioning the supernatural. Truth: they had gotten detained nearly as soon as they left, by the same person who had just kidnapped Stiles, and for nearly the same reason. But without explaining werewolves and werewolf Hunters, that story was going to be obviously full of holes. And then did they tell the truth about who had them? Although it had been a sucker punch, Allison really was not in a position to do well if she had to watch her father and grandfather be dragged into court on kidnapping and assault charges. If that happened, she probably would end up in foster care, and there were a lot of flaws in that system. Maybe she would get lucky and a distant relative back in France or god knows where would agree to take her in but crazy seemed to run in the family. But if they claimed they’d been staying in hotels and had only run into the same mess Stiles had tonight by happenstance, they’d be expected to name motels and have an explanation and witnesses for their travel which never happened.

Stiles’ father sighed at their silence. He looked to Stiles. Stiles shrugged. He sighed again. “Okay. I get it. I’m a cop. I’m some old guy who just wouldn’t get it, right? You don’t want to confide in me. But if somebody hurt you, it’s my job to gather evidence and take them to jail, charge them in court, so that they can’t hurt anyone else. That’s what our oath is – to serve and protect. But we can’t protect anyone if you don’t tell us who to charge.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica murmured.

“I just don’t know what to tell you,” Boyd agreed.

“I can see that. You don’t have to worry about not being a squealer, or whatever it is you kids call it now. Given the state of my son’s face, I’m pretty sure this is beyond a little teenage rebellion. This is assault and it’s illegal. I can put them in prison and they won’t be a threat to you anymore.” They still didn’t know what to say. Getting the Argents put in jail certainly wasn’t going to get rid of the threat of all the werewolf Hunters who must exist in the world. And someone else might come looking for revenge on their behalf. “Okay kids. You think about it. I’m gonna make some sandwiches for you; get some nutrients in your system. Anyone allergic to peanut butter? I think deli meat might turn your stomach.” They all shook their heads. The wolves were likely no longer allergic to anything. The Sheriff retreated into the kitchen.

“What do we tell them?” Erica asked urgently.

“I don’t know.” Boyd looked distressed.

“Either you lie through your teeth, and it quickly becomes obvious you’re lying because you have no details, or you try to tell the truth but your story still has lots of holes because supernatural,” Stiles told them. “We really don’t have any good options.”

“If we tell the truth, it maybe gets Gerard and Chris off the streets, but they aren’t the only Hunters in the world,” Boyd agreed. “But I don’t want to lie to the cops. Isn’t that a crime too?”

“Crime to lie to a judge while under oath in the courtroom,” Stiles clarified. “But yeah, it still feels like shit.”

“There’s going to be a lot of people here soon,” Erica said. She rubbed at her eyes. “And we don’t have an explanation for anything. Our parents are going to be here soon and we don’t have an excuse for running away in the first place. How exactly did we end up in this mess?”

“At some point, I would like to hear that story,” Stiles told her. Erica frowned at him.

“Derek has almost no idea what he’s doing.”

“Clearly you didn’t have any better ideas,” he hissed back. “Derek’s not gotten anyone hooked up to a generator!”

“We thought there was another pack!”

“We should have realized it was a trap,” Boyd said, tiredly resigned. “We weren’t being any smarter than we accused him of being as our reason to leave.”  
The doorbell going off interrupted their conversation.

“It’s open!” his father hollered from the kitchen. The door shook.

“No, it ain’t!” Deputy Cordova yelled back. A moment later, it swung open anyway. The Sheriff had been coming out of the kitchen to let them in.

“It’s alright, Sheriff,” Tara smiled reassuringly. “Still got that key.”

“I didn’t think I’d locked it,” he looked very bewildered.

“I did,” Erica spoke up.

“Oh, that’s fine, then.” The Sheriff smiled reassuringly at Erica. Stiles couldn’t recall off top the last time he had gotten that smile from his father.

“Oh, good Lord, Stiles,” Tara sighed. “What have you gotten into now?”

“This isn’t his fault!” Erica snapped.

“Okay, honey,” Cordova murmured softly as he slowly moved forward towards the couch. “No one’s trying to blame anyone for this. Do you want to tell us whose fault it really is?”

Everyone clammed up again.

“They don’t seem to want to talk,” Stiles’ father pointed out redundantly. “I even gave them time to corroborate their stories.”

“Sheriff!” Cordova chided.

“They seem to be pretty scared by whoever it is that did this.”

“It takes a lot to rattle Stiles,” Tara commented. “What’s the issue, kid? Money? Power? Too many kids in the other gang to possibly succeed in making charges stick on all of them?”

“All three? But I’m not in a gang. This isn’t because of a gang.”

“It’s not a teenager,” Cordova sighed heavily. “I told you, this had to be an adult. Teenagers get cocky and sloppy real fast. Eventually someone talks. We’ve got no camera footage anywhere, even our own station, and Stiles has come to the conclusion that he needs to not talk. No offense, kid, but you don’t know when to shut up.”

“I just don’t usually bother. Or sometimes my Adderol’s already worn off. No offense taken.”

“How much money and power?” Stiles’ father asked.

“I’m not giving you any hints,” Stiles stated. “How long does it take to make three peanut butter and banana sandwiches? I’m starving.”

“Oh, right,” he hurried back into the kitchen.

“Is there anything you’re willing to tell us?” Tara asked.

“We left of our own volition,” Boyd spoke up. “Erica and I.”

“I was blindfolded and dragged off the lacrosse field,” Stiles grumbled. Oh shit. Now his medicine decides to start easing out of his system. He probably should have realized that when he was hungry.

“Did you stay gone of your own volition?” At least Tara had the decency not to ask what Stiles was muttering about. There was silence.

“No,” Erica finally spoke up. “No, we didn’t.”

“Do you know where you were? Who detained you?”

There was more silence. Tara and Cordova were better at waiting people out than Stiles’ father was. He returned with plates of sandwiches. Stiles immediately stuffed as much as he could in his mouth to keep himself from talking. Erica also took a bite. Boyd looked down at his sandwich and then back up at the deputies.

“Yes and yes, but we aren’t sure telling you would help the situation. Erica and I weren’t hurt too badly. We just couldn’t leave. Stiles just got kidnapped tonight. Obviously they kicked the snot out of him.”

“And then they let you go? Just like that, they open the door and wave you off?” Cordova was disbelieving. Stiles swallowed the rest of what was in his mouth and took a gulp of water.

“Like you said, this is an adult. I pointed out all the things they could be thrown in jail for and reminded them that my father was the Sheriff. Unfortunately, after further thought, I’m not sure my situation would be improved by selling them out.”

“So, at least one person involved had second thoughts,” Tara confirmed. Stiles, Erica, and Boyd all nodded. “Should we assume that means this is a group effort of some sort?” They nodded again. “Not gangs. Adults making decisions that look like a murder spree with three kidnapped teenagers. Two mostly spared seemingly randomly, the other immediately violently attacked. And someone’s having second thoughts. And Stiles has come to the conclusion that we won’t be able to get enough people in jail to avoid retaliation.”

“I’ve still got nothing,” Cordova admitted.

“Nothing all adds up together,” the Sheriff agreed. There was a knock on the door. It swung open to reveal the EMTs. “Finally! You have sirens, why do you never use them?”

Luckily, that stopped the interrogation by the cops. Erica and Boyd stuck to the tazing story, claiming they had gotten shocked a few times over the past couple weeks. They both got a quick examination and asked about the typical symptoms of being electrocuted, but no one batted an eye that two healthy teenagers were recovering easily from the trauma.  
Stiles got a more thorough examination. They peeled his lacrosse jersey and pads off him, which Stiles was more than grateful for. He then had to try to list out every hit that he had taken. Luckily Erica and Boyd had had a better vantage point. Apparently there was a scrape on his cheek, which explained the pain of moving his facial muscles, that he had gotten when Gerard kicked him over. Stiles hadn’t even realized it was there. He made the mistake of having his father in his line of sight when they asked about his lip and Stiles had to admit that it had been purposefully split open to try and shut him up. His father bodily flinched. The EMT just winced sympathetically. Stiles didn’t recognize any of these people, so they had no personal connection and they probably saw stuff like this all the time. People were violent and easily breakable.

By the time Stiles’ examination was done, they’d decided that it didn’t much matter for the night whether his ribs were bruised or fractured and he could go in for x-rays after a good night’s sleep, and he’d been put in a back brace to keep from causing himself any further damage with strict instructions not to tighten it any further, both Boyd’s and Erica’s parents had arrived.

There was a lot of crying and hugging. Boyd was handling it all pretty stoically. His parents clearly had already been hysterical about the situation. Of course, if he overheard that right, it was Boyd’s younger sister who had been the little girl who Stiles had sort of realized had disappeared right after his mother had died and had been presumed dead after a few months. Erica was crying and apologizing in half-coherent Spanish. Her parents were also crying and scolding her in half-coherent Spanish. Stiles probably should have been clued in to that one by the last name Reyes. Not exactly Anglo-Saxon sounding. Stiles’ father wrapped him in a hug too.

“Thank you for not running away.”

“Yeah, dad.” Stiles was trying not to cry because tears were made of salt and even the cut on his cheek had only been cleaned and had medicine put on it. His lip was still entirely open to the elements.

The doorbell rang again. This time it was another set of Deputies: Petran and Moushian.

“We picked up the Jeep and Stiles’ bags from the school. Figured since it’s a weekend, and all…” Moushian said, holding Stiles’ keys aloft.

“You don’t look so hot, kid,” Petran commented, walking towards the couch. Stiles scoffed. His dad had stood up and took the keys from Moushian.

“Thanks for getting the Jeep.”

“Yeah, kid.” Petran rubbed a gentle hand over his head. “I wasn’t going to let your mom’s car sit out in the middle of the school parking lot all weekend.” Stiles sort of noticed the way Boyd had jerked around to gape at him as Petran was handing him his phone back.

“I appreciate it.”

“So what’s all this? Sore losers over that lacrosse game?” Stiles couldn’t help the way he stiffened defensively. “Worse?”

“It wasn’t teenagers,” Cordova answered for him. “The kids aren’t talking. Whoever messed up Stiles’ face had the runaways.”

“Three counts of kidnapping and one of assault on a minor?” Petran shook his head. “Some people are crazy.”

“Got that right,” Stiles grumbled.

The doorbell went off again. No one let themselves in this time. His father was still talking to Moushian. Stiles levered off the couch and gingerly made his way to the door. Lydia was on the other side. She still looked as put together as she always did, but there was something in her eyes.

“Lydia? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, Jesus, this is a lot of people.”

“We could talk upstairs?”

Lydia eyed him suspiciously for a second before deflating. “Please?”

“Follow me.” Lydia stepped over the threshold and Stiles shut the door. He led the way over to the stairs. With all the people still talking to each other, no one even really noticed. Stiles ended up in his room, turning around and waiting for Lydia to explain. “Shut me if I start blathering. My Adderol’s wearing off.”

“I… I need to find Jackson. They took him to the hospital after the game, but they wouldn’t let me in to see him. And then they said he was gone.”

“Why are you here? Wouldn’t his parents know better than me?”

“Stiles, you always know,” Lydia countered. Something had happened that Stiles didn’t know about. Lydia knew something for certain now.

“Okay. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.” Stiles pulled his phone out. Shit, that was a lot of missed messages from Scott. Well, there was some stuff about Jackson doing some weird cocoon thing. “Uh, Scott says Melissa snuck him into the morgue because Jackson didn’t seem to be dead. She could have gotten in so much trouble for that. I’m not sure she’s even supposed to be in the morgue.”

“Blathering,” Lydia said sharply. “Not dead is a good start. What’s going on now?”

“Last text says that they moved him out of the morgue and he seems to be regaining consciousness.”

“In those words?” she smirked a little. Stiles shook his head. He was not repeating what Scott had actually said about zipping the thrashing kanima and its goo cocoon back into the body bag. Stiles fired off a text asking where they were taking him. Probably to Derek, since Scott said he still had Isaac with him. Stiles had Derek’s number. He sent another message to Derek, asking what they were doing with Jackson and where.

Derek replied nearly immediately: _Stay out of this. Kanima too dangerous. Levelling up. Wings._

“Uh… He’s evolving,” Stiles muttered.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. But my resident yardstick for badassery sounds like he might be concerned about it.”

“We’ve got to get there. Where are they going?”

“Somewhere from the hospital towards the Preserve, I’d imagine,” Stiles shrugged. A text came back from Scott. “The industrial district.”

“Where all the businesses went under?”

“Seems like,” Stiles nodded. “God I hate that place. It’s so creepy.”

“I have to get there,” Lydia insisted.

“I’m not sure we can help.”

“Well, I’m going,” Lydia turned to leave.

Stiles gently grabbed her by the shoulder. “Then you aren’t going alone.” Lydia smiled at him. Then she narrowed her eyes at his torso.

“What’s wrong with your ribs?”

“Got my ass handed to me. Probably bruised.”

“Probably or hopefully?”

“I’m trying on optimism for a change.”

“Okay, everyone doesn’t need to know that at first glance. Let’s get a jacket on over the brace.”

“Good plan. They’re in the closet. I don’t think I can put it on by myself.”

Lydia threw open the closet and grabbed the first jacket she could find. She tried to be gentle as she yanked it on his shoulders and zipped up the front but she was more trying to rush. Stiles gritted his teeth through the mild wave of pain. If she was going to do this, Stiles wasn’t going to let her go alone. He sent off another text to Derek as they headed down the stairs: _Lydia insistent on coming to Jackson. Bringing her to you. Scott said old Daimler Star building?_

Derek again texted back fairly quickly: _TOO DANGEROUS_

But then Stiles’ phone buzzed again. It still said from Derek, but read: _Lydia vital to stop kanima. Can save Jackson._

Who was with Derek? Stiles was now insistent on going too. Isaac was with Scott, who also had Jackson in a body bag, and the other two betas were sitting in his living room. He and Lydia walked straight up to his father.

“Hey, when did she get here? Why do you have a jacket on?”

“We have to go get Jackson,” Stiles stated firmly. “I need my keys.” His father’s mouth dropped open. Then it shut again. He looked at Lydia, trying desperately to hold herself together.

“You get hurt any worse and I’ll take you to the ER tonight. We can both be up until ungodly hours of the morning.” But he dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them over. Stiles was very surprised at how easy that had been. He did not look the gift horse in the mouth. He took the keys and he and Lydia went outside. Luckily, his car wasn’t blocked in.

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

“They didn’t give me any pain meds yet.”

“Okay.” Lydia got in the passenger seat. Stiles swung into the driver’s seat with a groan at the strain on his ribs. Lydia looked over at him but she kept her mouth shut. Stiles started up the car. The engine rumbled awake. Stiles took a deep breath and shifted into drive. They were doing this.

It was a tense drive. The radio was off. Stiles wasn’t talking. Lydia was clutching at something in her hands like it was a rosary. It was long past the police enforced curfew, so the roads were basically empty. Stiles let himself ignore the speed limit. He was still pretty shocked about how easily his father had handed the keys over. There were still deputies and EMTs and two hysterical families in their living room and Stiles had been kidnapped less than an hour ago. He had a brace on over possibly fractured ribs. Even with Stiles speeding, it took entirely too long to get over to the industrial area.

“The old Daimler/Western Star building,” Stiles announced as they got closer.

“That should be the one with the giant W on the building,” Lydia pointed off to the side. Stiles saw a small collection of cars. He recognized several as Argent vehicles.

“Those are Hunters,” he muttered. Lydia and Stiles exchanged a glance.

“Maybe we should make an entrance?” she gestured at the car and the wall of the abandoned warehouse.

“Brace yourself.” Stiles slammed his foot down on the brake pedal and they drove at full speed into and through the wall. Stiles forced his eyes open as he swerved, stomping on the brakes, luckily straight into the kanima. Lydia was already half-falling out of the Jeep.

“Jackson!” she called insistently.

“He’s had his throat ripped out and shook it off. I’m sure he’s fine,” Stiles was blathering as he followed her more slowly. He had to put the car into park and take out the keys. Sure enough, the kanima had jumped back up and was brandishing its claws at her before Stiles got his feet on the ground. Hands grabbed at his shoulders as he went to take a step forward. Oh, there was Scott. Lydia didn’t cede any ground.

“Jackson, I know you’re still in there.” She held up a key. Why had she been holding a key? What door did it go to? Sure enough, the kanima’s eyes focused on that key. Did Lydia have a key to Jackson’s house? “Please, come back to me.”

Suddenly the kanima scales were reverting to human skin. He reached out and took the key from her hand. Jackson had his normal, human eyes again. Stiles barely heard Lydia’s sobbing gasp as Jackson spread his arms out. Suddenly Derek and Peter leapt towards him out of nowhere. How was Peter alive?!? Their claws sunk into his bare, human skin. Lydia screamed. Stiles forced his way forward, barely managing to hold her back from throwing herself bodily over Jackson.

“What the hell?!” he demanded. “One of the two of you said she could save him!”

“Sorry, this does look rather violent, but you have to entirely purge the kanima out of him,” Peter explained.

“I set you on fire and Derek ripped your throat out. Why are you no longer in the grave I put you in?”

“Dear Lydia did me a favor.” Peter and Derek both finally dropped Jackson. Stiles let Lydia drop to her knees with him. “So, tit for tat, yes?”

“Is he still insane?” Stiles demanded of Derek, who was now wavering on his feet. Peter silently and as unobtrusively as possible stepped towards his nephew and braced him up. “What happened? Did you get paralyzed again?”

“To put it briefly,” Derek grumbled. He then seemed to notice Stiles’ state. “What happened?”

“Later,” Stiles grumbled. Derek chuckled.

“Fair enough.” They all fell silent as Jackson stopped wheezing. Lydia was cradling his still, silent body in her arms.

“No,” she whispered. Stiles started to reach out to pull her away but that pulled the muscles in his torso and he stopped. After a brief moment, Lydia stood up anyway. She looked back at Stiles with Derek and Peter. “Why?” Stiles had no response.

Apparently Peter did, “Give it a minute. I owe you a favor, you remember. His werewolf healing should kick in.”

“Should?” Lydia demanded angrily. At that moment, Jackson’s hand twitched, clearly moving across the concrete floor.

“Maybe he isn’t lying,” Stiles quickly said. Lydia whirled back around. Stiles could see over her shoulder that Jackson’s wounds were healing quickly. After a moment, his torso was completely unmarred. His eyes opened, glowing the same bright blue that Derek’s had before he became the alpha. Jackson slowly stood, his features shifting into werewolf form. He let out a roar, which Derek, Peter, Isaac and Scott all answered.

Suddenly Jackson shifted back to human. Lydia flung herself back at him. His arms wrapped tightly around her. Stiles sighed.

“Sympathies?” Derek murmured next to his ear.

“Not her, particularly,” Stiles clarified. “But I want that.”

“Don’t we all?” Derek turned to face Stiles. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m still managing.” Stiles unzipped the jacket enough that Derek, and Peter, could see the brace. Peter bared his teeth. Derek winced. “Everything’s a little sore.”

“I see that.” Derek reached over and zipped it back up. “How bad?”

“Not sure yet.” Stiles frowned at Derek. “What happened here? How did the Hunters get involved? I thought Scott was bringing Jackson to you. And Peter asked for Lydia. I saw at least three Argent vehicles outside.”

“I told you we were in their crosshairs!” Peter hissed.

“We’re surrounded?” Derek asked, tired and resigned.

“I didn’t see anyone, just the parked cars.”

“Great.”

“So, Scott didn’t tell you about his master plan?” Peter asked. The question echoed in the air.

“What?” Stiles was bewildered. “Scott never had a plan. Scott, what’s all this?” He whirled around. Scott was still standing by the Jeep, but Isaac was walking towards him and the wolves and Lydia. Scott put on his stubborn face and crossed his arms.

“We aren’t conjoined twins. I don’t always have to tell you everything.”

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. “Scott, you’ve been insistent that killing Jackson was immoral and wrong without managing to come up with any way around it. And I’ve been supporting you in that despite every dead body that the kanima put at our feet because of it. If you had some kind of plan, yes, you damn well did need to tell me about it!” Scott looked surprised.

“Well, it was a secret plan. It had to be a secret. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked.” Scott nodded firmly.

“What the hell did you do? Peter’s the one who came up with using Lydia to trigger him to transform back to human so they could make him reset. That wasn’t your plan. So what did you do, Scott?”

“I stopped Gerard.”

“Stopped him from what, exactly?” Well, at least threatening Scott made more sense than threatening Derek.

“Becoming the kanima master.”

“Maybe we should all go home and let our tempers cool?” Chris suddenly spoke. Stiles hadn’t even really noticed him. Oh, there was Allison, at his side. Both of them were walking towards Scott. Wait. Where was Gerard? Stiles’ gaze swept over the warehouse. There was a puddle of black goo, like what Derek had been oozing while he’d been shot, and it had a swipe out of it towards the far end of the warehouse that was all in shadow. Shit, but that painted a damning picture.

“That’s probably a very good idea,” Stiles agreed. “Who all has cars, other than me?”

“We walked,” Peter said. The way Derek was still leaning on his uncle meant they should not try to walk back to wherever they were staying.

“Chris brought me and Scott with Jackson’s body,” Isaac added.

“Scott?” Stiles asked.

“Actually, Scott, could you ride with us?” Allison asked. “I think we have some things to talk about.”

“Oh, now you have time for the monster?” Stiles couldn’t keep his mouth closed. Well, clearly his Adderol was all gone. Allison’s whole body flinched. Chris winced. Scott’s mouth dropped open.

Allison pointedly turned away from him. “Scott, please?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “Of course. I don’t know what’s gotten into Stiles.” Chris made an interesting face at that, but no one said anything. They all watched the two Hunters lead Scott outside.

“Are the other Hunters leaving?” Stiles asked, looking back at Peter and Derek. Peter tilted his head so his ear was cocked towards the door.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “They’re getting in the cars.”

“Okay. I’m driving. Derek can have shotgun. Everyone who isn’t hurt can pile in the backseat.” Stiles blinked at Jackson. “You need clothes. I think I might have at least some pants in the back.”

“That’d be nice.”

Stiles led the way back over to the Jeep. Jackson followed with Lydia hovering nervously at his side. Stiles unlocked the trunk and popped the window up. He always had several bags in the back and if he opened the entire door, they would probably fall out.

“Which bag?” Lydia asked. “Don’t strain your ribs.”

“That black one with the red stripe. If it’s got clothes, they’ll be clean enough to put on.” Lydia grabbed it up and ripped the zipper open. Luckily, Stiles had sweatpants and a few tee shirts in it.

“Thanks,” Jackson offered as he took the sweats and a shirt from Lydia. “I appreciate the ride too.”

“No problem. Lydia’s car is at my house.”

“Okay.” Jackson nodded.

“I guess you can take us back to the loft,” Derek said. Stiles looked over to find him leaned up against the side of the Jeep.

“Erica and Boyd were still at my house when I left. Gerard had locked them in the basement with a generator.” Peter growled. “We none of us could figure out a cover story so I doubt they’ve left yet. I’m sure the deputies will want to drag it out as long as possible in hopes one of us will crack.”

“Your house, then,” Derek nodded.

“Couldn’t you have just said that this was a spat over the game?” Lydia asked.

“If Erica and Boyd hadn’t half-carried me through my front door,” Stiles agreed. Lydia winced.

“They have been missing a couple weeks, right?”

“Yeah. My dad’s not stupid. He was a detective before he ran for Sheriff.” Jackson was dressed. Lydia had put the bag back in the trunk and firmly shut the window. Stiles started herding everyone into the Jeep. “Peter, sit on the edge.”

“Why?”

“To guarantee Lydia doesn’t have to sit next to you.”

“Couldn’t he just ride on the roof?” she asked snidely. Stiles chuckled, even though it hurt his ribs. Peter exaggerated a look of hurt, but he obediently sat closest to the passenger side window. Isaac sat next to Peter. Jackson sat next to him with Lydia in his lap, more towards the window side. Derek was shotgun. Stiles pulled himself back into the driver’s seat.

“Jackson, since I scratched the paint all up going through the wall because of you, I’m sure you won’t mind paying to get it repainted?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jackson agreed easily enough. Stiles turned the car around and got them back out to the road without running over anything else. This time he turned the radio on, even though he left it low.

“So, what happened to you?” Isaac asked.

“Gerard wanted to send a message about not crossing him. He wanted Allison to believe it was to Derek, but apparently I was right that that didn’t make much sense. It must have been to Scott. How’d Gerard end up with that same black goo you vomited up with wolfsbane poisoning?”

“He has cancer, apparently,” Peter answered. “Takes pills. Scott, probably with Deaton’s help, switched them out for identical pills with mountain ash in them instead of medicine. The kanima, probably under Gerard’s influence, gave Derek a dose of that paralytic venom. Scott forced Derek’s mouth open.”

“Gerard gave himself the bite,” Stiles finished. “Thought becoming a werewolf would cure his cancer. But with the build-up of mountain ash in his system, he just had a poison reaction.”

“Werewolves?” Lydia asked. Stiles startled.

“I thought you had talked to her?”

“She ran away rather quickly while I was getting my bearings.”

“Beforehand?”

“I didn’t get a chance.”

“Didn’t make a chance, you mean. Peter, you can’t treat people like that!”

“Yes, werewolves,” Derek interrupted. He shifted for her. “Peter was the alpha when he bit you. I became alpha when I killed him. I bit Jackson, but obviously something went wrong. Hopefully, this should be a permanent solution. Only alphas can turn humans into werewolves.”

Stiles took up that line of thought. “Full moon is a thing. Silver is because the Argents have been werewolf Hunters for centuries. They’re weak to mountain ash, which can be used to encircle and trap them, wolfsbane, electricity, and fire. As you’ve seen, they can shift and have claws and fangs. They can smell better and hear farther. They can heal ridiculously quickly. They typically form a pack, a group of social bonds that they gain strength from and help them have control and stay sane, especially on the full moon.”

“That’s why they set the house on fire?” she asked quietly. Peter growled. Derek and Stiles just nodded.

“I think it was supposed to be efficient,” Stiles scoffed. “Of course, Gerard said that hooking Erica and Boyd up to a generator was science. Apparently they weren’t teenagers because they were animals. At least my teenagers line worked better on Chris.”

“He let you all go?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded.

“He even helped them out of their restraints.”

“That’s something,” Peter said. “With Gerard having pulled this bite stunt in front of everyone, Chris should be in charge until Allison’s old enough.”

“She was 17 in February,” Stiles offered. “I’m assuming Hunters come of age at 18? That’s nearly a year for her to come to terms with her mother’s death and her father to talk sense into her. By the way, someone at some point needs to get the information to them that Derek didn’t bite Victoria. Gerard was leaning heavily on that to get Allison to stop arguing.”

“I’m not volunteering,” Isaac stated flatly. “She stuck knives in my back.”

“Do you need a clean shirt too?” Stiles asked. “The cuts healed already, right? Derek’s gonna wanna go in to see Erica and Boyd himself. We don’t need the EMTs if they’re still there and the deputies seeing cuts in your shirt and bloodstains but no wounds.”

“Yeah, I’m healed. I probably do need a shirt.” Isaac twisted around and leaned over the back seat. “Red stripe?”

Lydia peered over. “Yeah, that’s it.” Isaac emerged with a tee shirt and exchanged his shirt for the clean one. Stiles was driving a little more slowly on the return trip. But there were still no cars on the road. So he was back to his house soon enough. There were still two cars that must belong to the Boyds and Reyes’, two patrol cars and one of the ambulances outside, though the emergency lights were off now. He put it in park and pulled the keys out. Stiles got himself out of the Jeep and groaned in pain and nausea. He gritted his teeth against it. Jackson and Isaac had leapt out behind him and braced him up.

“We’ll help you inside,” Jackson decided. Peter was discretely shoring Derek up on the other side. Lydia got the doors closed as she made her way out of the car at a more reasonable speed. They all headed for the front door.

The front door swung open the moment they made it onto the porch. His father held out his arms to take him. “Thank god! Are you hurt any worse?”

“No. It just all hit me. Can I have some pain meds now?”

“Of course!” his father nodded. “All of you, come ahead in. I might not have seats for you, though. We’re a little full up.” Erica and Boyd both jumped up at the sight of Derek.

Stiles was deposited gently on the couch. “Derek probably should get a once-over too. He got another dose of that paralytic goop.”

“Good lord does none of this add up,” Cordova complained. The EMT who had not been fetching a couple pills from their stash of medication moved over to check Derek’s reflexes. Stiles was given a dose of Codeine and a full glass of water to drink with it. By the time Stiles had finished that, the EMT had declared that Derek seemed to be recovering well, and did not look at all suspicious. Even though Stiles had seen him recover from this twice now, it had taken him two hours to regain movement and Stiles didn’t know what was different but he felt better that medical professional thought that Derek should be fine without taking his healing factor into consideration.

“Can we take our kids home now?” Erica’s father asked. Stiles managed to keep his mouth shut, but he pouted at his father. He did not want them to go. Derek had just gotten here.

“Since they won’t tell us who had them, and we haven’t had time to get back up to full staff, I cannot promise their safety if I have to split my forces up between three houses. If it’s alright with you, I would suggest that they stay here at least for tonight, so I can have one house safely under surveillance.” Stiles’ eyes went wide. Erica’s parents conferred in Spanish. Boyd’s parents were speaking quietly.

“I just want my son safe,” Boyd’s father said. “If you believe he’s safer here, then we’ll go home without him.”

“Us as well,” Erica’s mother said in English. “If Erica will be safer here.”

“I could post surveillance on all three of our houses, because my own son was kidnapped tonight, but I think that might spread our resources too thin. I do think your children will be safer here, with all my resources concentrated in one place to protect them.”

Within moments, the Boyds and the Reyes’ and the last set of EMTs had left the house. The four deputies and the Sheriff were conferring while they checked the perimeter. That left the Hale Pack alone in the living room.

“We’re so sorry!” Erica burst out, throwing herself at Derek now that there was no one to ask questions.

“Hush. I know. I’m not mad at you. You’re forgiven. Both of you. You just promise me you’re healing?”

“We’re healing,” Boyd affirmed. “I am sorry.”

“I know. I’m not mad. You’re forgiven.”

“Not to interrupt, but I just took an opioid. Can someone get me upstairs to my bed?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed. He bodily lifted Stiles off the couch and carted him upstairs. “This last one on the right?” Stiles nodded wearily. He was sort of aware that everyone had followed them. Peter gently set him on his feet, but kept a supporting hand on his back.

“Okay, who all is sleeping here?”

“I’d feel safer under police surveillance,” Lydia hinted.

“Me too,” Jackson nodded.

“All of us, apparently,” Derek said. Stiles nodded slowly.

“Okay. So we have my bed, the guest bed, and I’m pretty sure there’s an air mattress somewhere in the attic behind the holiday decorations.”

“All in one room?” Peter asked. Derek nodded. Stiles frowned in confusion. “Come on, Isaac. Jackson, how are you holding up?”

“I’m not moving a bed.”

“Fine, hold Stiles upright.” Jackson switched out with Peter and Lydia carefully followed, making sure someone was between her and Peter at all times. 

Peter and Isaac left the room. They soon returned with the bed from the guest room. Jackson ushered Stiles and Lydia out of the way. Derek, Erica, and Boyd all gave way as well. The guest bed was sat down in the empty space and then Peter pushed Stiles’ bed a little closer to the other wall so there was more room to get between the two beds.

“Since Stiles’ is at least a queen and this one’s a king, I don’t think we’ll need the air mattress?” Peter somehow made it a question.

“Depends on how we split them up. You might still need the stuffy attic air mattress.” Derek smirked. Peter frowned exaggeratedly. Stiles looked around at everyone. Couldn’t split Jackson and Lydia. Lydia and Peter had to be in different beds. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac at least had no personal bad experiences with Peter, so they could all bunk with him on the guest bed. That would leave Derek and Jackson and Lydia in Stiles’ bed.

“Do you want closest to the window or the door?” Stiles asked Derek. Derek looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t care.”

“To attempt not to get out the air mattress: Peter, Isaac, Erica, Boyd on the guest bed and the rest of us on my bed?”

“Any complaints?” Everyone agreed that so long as there was space for four people on each bed that that arrangement sounded fine.

“Good. Sweatpants and gym shorts are in the second drawer from the top on the lefthand side of the dresser. My tee shirts are in the drawer above that. Everyone feel free to help yourselves to something more comfortable for sleeping. If someone could help me into something that isn’t half my lacrosse gear and a jacket, I’d appreciate it.”

Peter was once again first to offer his assistance. Stiles was less inclined to willingly let the man take his clothes off. Helping him up a staircase had been a very different matter. Isaac ended up helping Stiles down the hall to the bathroom and into a pair of gym shorts and a thin tee shirt. His father had been fussy about the practicality of sleeping in underwear last time Derek had stayed the night, and now there were two girls in the picture with all the guys. And Peter. If Derek was a grown man, too old to be around teenagers, what did that make Peter who was actually a grown adult?

Erica and Lydia also went down to the bathroom with Stiles’ tees and two pairs of gym shorts he had not realized he still owned. Well, it was lucky in this instance that two pairs had missed the purge when he grew several inches over the summer after seventh grade and another several inches during eighth grade and had been unable to even try to pretend his clothes still fit. The rest of the boys all quickly changed into gym shorts while the girls were in the bathroom. Only Isaac and Peter had also opted for a shirt. Peter had decided that sweatpants would be more appropriate, which Stiles had to agree with.

Stiles’ father arrived upstairs about the time Lydia and Erica returned.

“This is more people than I anticipated. Do we need the air mattress down?”

“We think we’ll all be able to squish in,” Derek said. Stiles let out a quiet groan. Why had Derek had to open his mouth? Miraculously, his father said nothing on that matter.

“If you’re sure about that, I won’t argue. Lydia, Jackson, have you let your parents know not to expect you? I don’t want anyone to get worried.”

“I just called my mom,” Lydia said with a tight smile. “She wanted me to convey her appreciation that you’re letting me stay on such short notice, even with the extenuating circumstances.”

“That’s very polite, but it’s not much trouble.” The Sheriff turned to Jackson. “You get in touch with one of your parents? After that incident I really don’t want your father tracing your phone here without knowing you decided to not come home.”

“I’m calling my dad right now,” Jackson promised, pulling his phone out and dialing someone’s number. He moved into the guest room for a little more privacy while he waited for whoever to pick up.

“Everyone has something comfortable to sleep in? Good. The bathroom is directly across the hall if Stiles didn’t think to say. My room is the other end of the hall if anything happens. We’ll have two sets of deputies on duty all night: one pair downstairs in the house and the other patrolling the block. Everyone should be perfectly safe.”

“We really do appreciate this,” Peter said charmingly. Stiles frowned at him. Jackson walked back in with an awkward smile.

“Dad is aware and fine with it.”

“Good. Not to stick my foot in it, but I thought you had a restraining order against my son?”

“That got filed wrong in the immediate aftermath. I asked for assault charges against Stiles. The restraining orders were supposed to be for Scott and Allison. Stiles seemed to genuinely believe he was trying to help in some way. The other two gave me no reason to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure we can make sure that all of that’s gotten sorted out on Monday. I have to take Stiles in for x-rays in the morning, so tomorrow will probably be a wash.”

“My father already got the restraining order corrected. I’m no longer upset enough to press the assault charge at this point. I think we’d all rather let the matter drop without getting lawyers involved.”

“Thank you,” the Sheriff said awkwardly. “Well, if everyone’s ready for bed, I’ll get out of your way. I’m just down the hall, if you need me. We can all have a chat about how we’ll be handling this moving forward in the morning over breakfast, I hope?”

“I can make pancakes,” Peter offered with a smile. Stiles’ father nodded and made a quick exit.

Derek put his back to the wall and he and Jackson helped Stiles onto his bed without straining his ribs bending. Lydia was also in the middle and Jackson took the other end. In the guest bed, Peter was on the farthest edge, and Isaac closest to the other bed, with Erica and Boyd in the middle.

Stiles managed to find a comfortable enough position on his side, even with the brace, and Derek once again wrapped himself around Stiles’ back with his mouth at the back of his neck. It was comforting. With Jackson similarly spooning Lydia, there was plenty enough room. Likely, someone was going to wake up in the morning sprawled out on top of the others, but at least for getting to sleep they were alright.

Given that everyone had at least had a very long night over the past few hours, it was not surprising that they were pretty quiet and fell asleep quickly. Stiles was the first out, because the pain medication knocked him out. Erica and Boyd and Jackson and Isaac and Derek were also quickly asleep to recover from all the healing they had done. Lydia was exhausted from the emotional toll the evening had taken on her. But even Peter had fallen asleep fairly quickly.

The next morning, Stiles woke up slowly. He was warm and safe. Someone had their arms around him, mouthing at his nape. Someone else’s hand was by happenstance on his face. There was yet another hand tangled with his fingers. Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting briefly against the morning light coming in the windows. Oh. Lydia was already awake. She was holding his hand. Jackson’s hand was on his face because Jackson was still sleeping. That meant Derek was mouthing at his nape. Stiles tried to swat at him with the hand Lydia wasn’t holding.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s not awake and chewing on me like a puppy.”

“Biting?” Lydia sounded concerned.

“No teeth, human or fangs,” Stiles assured her. “I would be less calm.” Lydia nodded. She fiddled with his fingers. Stiles felt absolutely no butterflies at all, just the gentle warmth of companionship.

“You don’t seem all that concerned about Peter. But he’s what attacked me at the dance, right? And what was chasing us around that night in the school?”

“Yes, he was. But everyone he killed was directly responsible for setting the fire that paralyzed him for six years. I helped out at the care center he was in a few years back. They said he was in a coma even though his eyes were open, but he was awake the entire time.”

“So you think it was mostly extenuating circumstances? He wasn’t entirely coherent or sane, and he had a clear target for revenge…”

“That’s what I’m hoping. What exactly did he do that you somehow helped him resurrect himself?”

“I think he was haunting me. I didn’t realize; he looked like a teenager.”

“Your breakdown,” Stiles murmured. Lydia winced even as she nodded. “So, he didn’t explain anything, but you helped him?”

“I blacked out at the beginning of my birthday party. I woke up covered in dirt and purple dust and blood in the basement of that house out in the woods. Peter was still entirely gross and Derek was barely conscious. I just ran.” That bastard.

Stiles squeezed her fingers. “Of course you did. Anyone would have in those circumstances. I don’t know why he thought that was the way to handle it.”

Peter interrupted to defend himself. “I did not realize exactly how the connection would work. It’s not like these sorts of things are a science, after all.”

Lydia whirled around to glare at Peter over Jackson’s sleeping form. “They could be. Science is just an organized study and explanation of how the world works. There’s no reason that magic shouldn’t be subject to some set of natural laws.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t know what they are.”

“I think that would typically be the logical first step with these sorts of things,” Stiles said flatly. “Because if you don’t know what you’re doing, you probably shouldn’t be doing it without adult supervision.”

“I certainly have to agree with that line of reasoning,” Lydia said sweetly, even as she was obviously glaring daggers at Peter.

Before Peter could make any further attempts to defend his bad judgment, the Sheriff poked his head around the door. “Anyone awake yet?”

“I am,” Peter easily rolled out of bed with a smile. “I could get started on breakfast?” Peter strolled leisurely towards the door and then down the hall.

“That would be helpful. Where’s Derek?” The Sheriff was blinking into the darkened room. Stiles tried to unobtrusively hide behind Lydia. By this point, Jackson was awake as well and so both Lydia and Jackson were looking at him in confusion. No alpha in Stiles’ bed, nosirree. His father made an irritated noise. Boyd and Erica both startled awake.

“Whassit?!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just seeing if anyone was awake and wanting breakfast.”

“Why are you freaking out?” Derek murmured against Stiles’ ear. He barely managed not to flail. Lydia’s grip on his hand probably helped matters.

“Take a stab in the dark,” Stiles grumbled. “You do remember that you’re in your twenties and I’m six years younger and my father is a cop?”

“Oh,” Derek seemed to come to the correct conclusion, given his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Just keep quiet until he goes away again.”

Luckily, it did not take much longer. His father finished apologizing to Boyd and then realized a strange man was helping himself to their kitchen. He hit the stairs at nearly a run. Since everyone was awake, they all roused themselves out of bed.

“So why is your dad so concerned about Derek around you?” Isaac asked. “He didn’t seem to generally think Derek was some kind of sexual predator or surely he would have kicked him out.”

“He just is,” Stiles snapped. He was not dealing with attempting to explain the meltdown he and his father had had over Derek a month ago. His father had seemed to let it go and put it out of mind since he had not brought it up since, but clearly he had not forgotten any more than Stiles had.

“There’s no need to worry about it right now,” Derek said firmly. “We have a lot of things to worry about, and that should be very low on our list of priorities. First, let’s all go down to breakfast and deal with the Sheriff. He’s not going to want to start his day until he’s spoken to us and I’m sure we’d all rather Stiles get his ribs checked out sooner rather than later.” Stiles felt a warmth in his chest when everyone immediately agreed on that grounds.

Stiles managed to dig out enough spare toothbrushes he had never used after receiving them at the dentist’s office so everyone could clean their teeth. Lydia and Erica both managed to find hair ties and pulled their hair up out of the way. Then they all went downstairs en masse.

Peter was standing over the stove, making pancakes, eggs, and bacon. The Sheriff was hovering by the sink, sort of glaring over his coffee mug at Peter. Stiles frowned at his father. He really wasn’t supposed to drink coffee. It wasn’t good for his heart. Given the circumstances, he likely needed some sort of crutch to start the day with. Stiles had been kidnapped and assaulted the night before. Their house was now under surveillance. Although Stiles had not noticed deputies in the living room when they passed through.

“Where’d…?” Stiles started to ask.

“I sent them in to start working on getting reports filed about all this mess, now that it’s morning and everyone’s awake.”

“That makes sense.” Stiles put himself in a chair at the kitchen table. The pain meds might have knocked him out for the night but he was still exhausted.

“I don’t suppose any of you have more explanations for me this morning after a night’s rest to consider the matter?” As anticipated, there was a lot of silence.

“You hadn’t told him?” Lydia asked quietly.

“Exactly where would you suggest I start?” Stiles demanded in return.

“That’s a point.”

“So everyone in this room except me knows exactly what’s been going on?” Stiles’ father demanded.

“More or less,” Jackson nodded. Stiles glared at the little shithead.

“Don’t antagonize the nice man who let you stay in the house under police surveillance last night,” Derek chided.

“Food is done,” Peter announced brightly.

They all managed to squeeze in around the kitchen table, though Erica ended up in Boyd’s lap and Lydia in Jackson’s. Stiles managed to keep his father from eating any of the bacon. He also kept his father’s portion of pancakes and syrup to a minimum. Stiles had this feeling that Derek had been helping him because Derek seemed to reach for the pancakes every time his father tried to get another helping. He had plenty of eggs after all. There was a brief moment of content quietude as they were all finishing up their plates.

Peter interrupted it. “I am sorry that you’re going to feel like I’m overstepping your bounds, Stiles, but I’m an adult and this is the better choice in the long run. Sheriff, I’m going to tell you what’s been going on and why you haven’t been able to figure it out. But I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt for a moment and set your gun out of reach.” Stiles hadn’t even noticed his father was in uniform and therefore armed.

“No! What if he gets hurt?”

“What if he gets hurt because he’s not prepared?” Peter countered. “After waking up with nearly my entire family dead, I can assure you that you will thank me for this later.”

“Peter might have a point, Stiles. You can’t assume that everyone will always leave him alone,” Derek spoke up. “I know you didn’t want to tell him, but he has to find out at some point.”

“I hate both of you,” Stiles snarled.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth. “I’m glad you agree with my assessment. Sheriff, please, the gun? I don’t want to get shot at if you startle.”

“That’s fair.” His father set the gun on the counter and twisted back around to face Peter. “Now, what’s been going on around here?”

“I am terribly sorry there was no one available to fill you in when you were elected to this position…” Peter was clearly stalling for courage. “But, my family, the Hales… we’re werewolves.”

“Why you little…!” the Sheriff had started to stand up.

Peter just shifted. “I’m not lying to you. I didn’t put anything in your food, so you aren’t hallucinating either. Werewolves are real. Up until the fire, the Hale pack have been the guardians of Beacon Hills. Because of several supernatural concurrences in the area that we don’t need to get into at the moment, this county has had a disproportionately high supernatural population. As I’m sure you can imagine, sometimes that means that things simply cannot go through the typical legal channels.”

“Like seeing animal hairs on a dead body and that being your proof that a specific person was involved,” the Sheriff sighed heavily. “The mountain lion at the school… who was that covering up for?”

“Me, I’m afraid,” Peter shrugged. “Although I truly never have understood why the Argents haven’t realized that giving a large wild animal adrenaline and then loosing it in the middle of a large crowd is perfectly likely to end with someone dead or them being brought in on possession charges.”

Derek gave Peter a quelling look and spoke up, “The Argents are werewolf Hunters. That’s why Kate set the fire. It’s why they came back when Peter woke up and started killing the people who were directly involved with the fire.”

“The Argents did this,” the Sheriff waved his hand at Stiles. Stiles nodded miserably. “Okay. We can go through all the nitpicky details of exactly what’s happened since December at some later point. I imagine that’s going to be a very long conversation. I just have a couple points I want to clarify right now.”

“Of course,” Derek nodded.

“Firstly, who killed Kate?”

“I did,” Peter willingly admitted.

“Second, where have you been since then?”

“I was a little dead. Derek killed me for Laura’s murder. I resurrected myself on the last full moon. I’ve been recovering my strength.”

The Sheriff stared at Peter for a moment. Stiles could see the moment he decided to also table that discussion for later. “And lastly, did Victoria Argent really commit suicide?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Derek replied. “I believe that she was bitten by an alpha and her husband and father-in-law may have insisted on the point. All the werewolf Hunters make some sort of agreement that they will commit suicide rather than turn if they get bitten. Although I am the Hale pack alpha, I did not bite her. I believe that when Laura came home only to turn up dead, it caught more than just my attention.”

Stiles interrupted to clarify. “Peter was the one to kill her, but Laura was bisected before she was found. That looks like a Hunter kill. They sever the spinal cord to make sure that the werewolf dies because werewolves can heal themselves very quickly. The Hunters are supposed to follow a code, in that they only hunt werewolves who have lost control or have become murderers, wolves that would be in prison if it could hold them. But the Hales hadn’t ever done anything to warrant that, except Peter in revenge for the fire. So it’s entirely possible that other packs are getting scared that they’ll also be killed simply for existing.”

“The Argents do seem to have thrown their Code out the window,” Derek agreed.

The Sheriff frowned. “I see why you weren’t sure that trying to go through normal legal channels would be helpful in the long run. They’ve already proved they’re willing to commit all sorts of crimes, perjure themselves, and murder. It’s like trying to prevent gang retaliation.”

“Essentially,” Peter agreed. “Normally, the Hale Alpha would have been here to explain all of this to you right after you were elected to the position of Sheriff so that you would be able to make informed decisions on how to handle any supernatural occurrences. Unfortunately, my niece decided to flee across the country instead of accepting her responsibilities.”

“She was only a child. She couldn’t have been past her early twenties. She hadn’t even graduated from college!” Now that was a child? That was exactly Derek’s age now and his father had been insistent that Derek was a grown adult.

“Laura was twenty-three. There were about six years between me and both my sisters,” Derek said quietly. Lydia turned to look at him in confusion. Stiles reached out and covered her hand with his. Lydia turned to him and Stiles shook his head. Cora had been in his grade in elementary school. She could not have been more than eleven when she died.

“Was that all you needed to establish to feel better about who your son is keeping company with?” Peter asked.

“It’s enough to start with. Are all of you werewolves too?” the Sheriff gestured wearily at the teenagers. Everyone nodded except Lydia and Stiles.

“I’m not a werewolf,” Lydia said.

“I believe Miss Martin is a banshee. Although I can’t be certain. My first thought was Morrigan, but that seems to have been incorrect.”

“Stiles, son, you aren’t a werewolf?”

“No, dad, I’m not.”

“So does that mean Scott’s a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“Does Melissa know?”

“She knows.”

“Okay. I think that’s about all I can handle right now. We need to get you to the hospital to get those x-rays done. Lydia, your car is still outside, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded with a bright smile.

“So you can get yourself and Jackson safely back home?”

“Of course.” Lydia hopped up and tugged at Jackson’s sleeve. “Just let me grab my clothes. Stiles, you’ll text me and let me know how your ribs are? I’ll wash these and give them back to you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “I’ll let you know.” Lydia rushed off upstairs to grab whatever she had had with her the night before. Jackson followed her.

“Thank you. Erica, Boyd, I’ll be dropping both of you off at your homes myself. There will be cars on patrol around your house. I will keep your parents apprised of any developments as we decide on a plan to keep you safe going forward.” The Sheriff looked at Isaac. “You live with Derek?”

“Yes,” Isaac cowed a little under scrutiny.

“You three showed up in my son’s car. Can you get safely home?”

Derek glanced briefly at Peter, who nodded back, before speaking. “Not to overstep, but I was hoping you wouldn’t object to us going to the hospital with you. Stiles is human, but I consider him part of my pack. I would like to see for myself what exactly the issue is.”

The Sheriff sighed. “Technically, I should be on the clock in an hour anyway. So I suppose there ought to be someone with Stiles if there’s a call before I can get him back here.”

“Thank you,” Derek inclined his head. “Isaac, would you run upstairs and get our things as well? I imagine Lydia would not appreciate my sending Peter.”

Lydia was coming back down the stairs and was in earshot. “No, I certainly would not have. But I’ve got my things now. So I’ll get Jackson out of your hair. I know you have to be anxious to get those x-rays done.” Lydia waved and disappeared out the front door with Jackson on her heels.

“Nevermind, then.” Derek looked over at his uncle. “Peter, go get all of our things out of Stiles’ room.”

“Yes, alpha,” Peter sneered. Although, he did not hesitate to do as Derek had asked. Erica and Boyd and Isaac all followed him. Apparently Stiles wasn’t the only one who would be uncomfortable with Peter handling his clothes. That left Stiles, his father, and Derek sitting around the kitchen table. Stiles had no immediate topic of conversation to hand.

“Can you or Peter drive stick?”

“Both of us can.”

“I thought I should check. With nearly all the cars being automatic, you can’t assume anymore.”

“While I was in New York, you couldn’t even assume that all adults could drive an automatic. Everyone just took a cab or the subway or walked.”

“Unnatural,” the Sheriff grumbled. Stiles had to stifle a groan of embarrassment. Who would want to drive in inner city gridlock? Stiles got frustrated enough just pulling out of the high school and that was a miniscule fraction of the amount of traffic in New York.

Luckily, everyone arrived back downstairs with their things in their hands at that point. Derek and Boyd both had to put shirts on. Neither of them could put their own shirt back on – Derek because of claw rips and Boyd because he’d been wearing it for two weeks – so Stiles’ shirts were stretched very tightly across their larger frames. Stiles noticed Boyd hiding a smile as he was trying to avoid looking at Derek. That was odd. Of course, Boyd was sometimes a bit odd.

They all got out to the cars. The Sheriff put Erica and Boyd in the patrol car with him. Peter and Isaac were still in the backseat of the Jeep, but Derek and Stiles had switched so Derek was driving. Given that the Sheriff had to drop off the two teenagers in his car, the Jeep arrived at the hospital much more quickly. Stiles had his wallet with his copy of the insurance card, so they went ahead in so they could get the paperwork out of the way. Melissa met them nearly at the door. Stiles had not been expecting her. With the way all three werewolves froze as well, they had not either.

“Your father called me to tell me that you’d be coming in this morning. What happened? I didn’t notice you take any bad falls in the game.”

“I just got knocked on my ass and then drove my car through a wall.” Stiles shrugged, grinning at her. Melissa frowned severely.

“Good Lord, don’t you have any sense in your head?” She clicked her teeth at him as she led the way into the hospital. Stiles was glad to have someone showing him which way to go. He didn’t know where the x-rays were done off the top of his head and following signs in hospitals was sometimes a lesson in frustration.

“Does she always assume the worst of you?” Derek asked in his ear. Stiles startled a little before he nodded.

“Most adults do. I have ADHD so I’m loud and move a lot and generally draw attention. If anyone does anything wrong while I’m in the vicinity, I’m the most likely person to get the blame. Doesn’t matter what I was actually doing.”

“That’s wrong,” Derek grumbled.

Peter fell into step with them and also pitched his voice low. “Watch your temper, nephew. She might know werewolves exist, but I doubt Scottie told her about his little plan. You don’t tell mommy that you’re going to slowly poison someone, and then paralyze someone else to use their body to kill the person you’ve been poisoning.”

“I’m watching it boil over,” Derek muttered wryly.

“Gonna do something about the mess?” Peter countered. Derek gave him a quelling look but he did seem to have a better control over his temper.

Finally they arrived in the correct waiting room. Melissa chatted with the nurse on desk duty while she signed Stiles in and got the paperwork for him to fill out. Because it was still early, the room was completely empty. Stiles let Derek choose their chairs. Derek chose a corner spot, away from the desk, with a view of the door. He spread himself over the entire seat. Stiles got started on filling out the stack of paperwork. Peter also sprawled out, but he looked like one of those pictures of a panther where they appear at ease but it’s obvious they’re also fully prepared to strike. Derek had just looked like he took up space. Isaac drew in on himself. He probably had just as many awful memories of hospitals as Stiles and Peter did.

“I know the waiting room’s empty but you’re about ten down on the list. The rest are patients who are in a room.”

“Thanks,” Stiles smiled up at her.

“Remember to give Emily your insurance card with the paperwork.”

“I will.”

“Alright, I have to get back to work. Stop getting yourself in trouble like this. You know your father has a stressful enough job. He doesn’t need you being a pain on top of it.” Stiles managed to hold onto his smile but he felt more like he was baring his teeth in challenge.

“I hear you,” he gritted out.

“See that you listen,” she replied. Then Melissa was gone. Peter and Derek both let out growls as she disappeared outside the doors.

“I understand that she assumed you had done this to yourself, but there was no reason for her to say that to you.” Peter was still glaring at the doors.

“I don’t think she’s ever liked me.” Stiles shrugged it off and went back to his paperwork. “Not like I’m too keen on being friendly with Scott right now anyway, after what he did last night. So she’ll have forgotten by the next time I see her unless she comes back to say hi to dad.”

“I didn’t even have a clue,” Isaac piped up. “I was with him the whole time after the game. He didn’t even seem to be worried or guilty or anything leading up to it. Shouldn’t he have at least been concerned about whether the plan was actually going to work?”

“One would think so,” Derek agreed.

“Scott looks quiet compared to me. Of course, he talks a perfectly average amount, but I draw a lot of attention all of the time. So he looks quiet. And he doesn’t have many friends. And people assume that he’s shy or bookish or prefers animals to people. But really, there’s something a little off-putting about Scott sometimes. I mean, I know I can get a little morbid sometimes, a little too concerned about Dad’s cases. But Scott… He’ll get an idea in his head and then that’s the way the world is and there’s no need to worry about anything because there’s no way it could possibly not all work out exactly how he wanted it to. And sometimes that’s not just about a group project. I’m pretty sure he’s gotten like that about Allison. Hopefully either he’ll believe her if she breaks up with him or she also wants to marry him and is also currently worrying about how they’re going to do family holidays with her family disliking him.”

“Oh, I made such a mistake,” Peter muttered with a wince.

“So, Scott got the idea in his head that the plan was the plan so it would work. So he stopped worrying about it?” Isaac frowned in concentration, trying to understand the illogic.

“That’s the most likely explanation,” Stiles nodded. Derek scoffed. Stiles finished up his paperwork and took it up to the nurse at the desk with his insurance card. She gave him a bland smile and told him she would call him back up to get his card in a moment. Stiles walked back over to his seat.

“This is going to be a problem,” Peter was muttering. Derek and Isaac both seemed to be pointedly ignoring him.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked.

“Scott and Deaton.” Peter did genuinely seem concerned by something. “I think I’ve heard of something like that kind of thinking before.” Something supernatural went unsaid but understood. Derek turned his head and acknowledged his uncle.

“Do you mean the power of belief?” Stiles asked as quietly as he could manage. Since they had been talking about Scott, the likelihood that a nurse Melissa called by name was eavesdropping was much higher than he would normally suspect first thing in the morning in a hospital waiting room.

“It’s related to that, but not just that,” Peter replied.

Stiles’ father took that moment to arrive. Coincidentally, the nurse was also just finished with the insurance card so he picked that up before coming to sit with them. Peter stood and moved to the chair on Derek’s other side so there was an empty chair next to Stiles for his father.

“Here, put it back in your wallet.” His father handed the card back over as he sat down beside Stiles. He put it back in his wallet as directed. “Got all your paperwork taken care of, kiddo?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Good… good… I got Erica and Boyd safely home to their parents. We’ve got plans to have another officer at the high school for the week. Hopefully that will be enough to deter any further incidents. Talked to the DA on the way here about getting restraining orders on the Argent family for all of you. We might not want to drag everything into court, but Whittemore agreed that even without that, you’d most likely be granted the restraining order. Then if they bother you again, all we have to do is prove they were there.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said.

“For all of us, or just for Stiles, Erica, and Boyd?” Derek asked.

“I’d like one,” Isaac grumbled.

“If you want one, I’ll have some requested for you too. I only got the ones for Stiles, Erica, and Boyd started so far. It did sound like Whittemore was going to put one through for his son as well.”

“If you could get them for all of us, we’d appreciate it,” Derek said.

“Then I’ll have them requested.” The Sheriff looked around the otherwise empty waiting room. “Who are we waiting on?”

“Patients in rooms. Melissa met us at the door, walked us here. She said there were 10 people ahead of me.”

“You seen anyone so far?”

“No,” Stiles shrugged.

“There’s another entrance to the exam rooms if you’re coming from an actual room,” Peter spoke up. “So we wouldn’t necessarily see anyone.”

“They did bring you over here a lot for scans, didn’t they?” Stiles mumbled absently. Peter nodded. The Sheriff settled back down even as he pulled out his walkie talkie to call in the restraining order requests.

They did not have to wait too much longer before one of the lab technicians came out to fetch them. Stiles was not at all surprised that the man only called out his last name.

“So, sports accident? Fender bender?” he asked casually as they walked back to the room.

“Got hit,” Stiles answered curtly. The way the technician perked up in concern at that answer was almost funny.

“Oh? How’d that happen?” he asked.

“Some asshole decided he needed to teach me what my place was,” Stiles replied. That was close enough to the truth and he had to say something so the lab technician wouldn’t call DSS.

“Got all your ducks in a row there, Sheriff?” the technician asked. Stiles’ father nodded.

“Yeah. Getting everything together- restraining orders, patrol routes, we’re gonna put another resource officer at the high schools. Some idiot decided that assaulting a few teenagers was a good life choice, but I think he’s the one learning a lesson.”

“That’s good. Can’t have those sorts of people just wandering the streets.” The technician stopped and opened one of the doors. “Right in here. Uh, how do you pronounce this first name?”

“I go by Stiles.”

“Stiles, then. Do you have any metal on anywhere? Wallet? Jewelry? Piercings? It’ll show up on the scan and it makes it a lot easier to read if you take it off.”

“No metal,” Stiles shook his head, even as he handed his wallet off to his dad. He wasn’t sure how the x-rays actually worked and he could not handle having to get a new debit card on top of everything else.

“Good. Then you just stand over here, right up against the wall, straight as you can manage. Oh! I should have guessed that you’d have a brace on. Let’s take that off you. If it’s too thick, it could mess with the scan too.” Derek shouldered the technician out of the way to help Stiles get the brace back off. Stiles was not upset to avoid having a stranger’s hands on his body.

“Thanks.”

“Alright. Stiles, up against the wall, nice and straight. Good. Now, if all of you could go stand behind where that wall is jutting out. We’ll be done in just a second and you can get that brace back on.” The technician scurried over behind the wall as well. Stiles noticed there was some sort of computer system in the corner. They took a couple scans, probably to assure that at least one of them came out clearly. “Those look good. You can put the brace back on. I’ll go get one of the doctors to tell you officially, but I don’t see any broken bones. Think you got lucky kid. Bruised ribs typically heal up in a few weeks, but broken bones take a couple months.” The technician left the room.

Derek helped Stiles back into the brace. Peter was muttering about how ridiculously slowly humans heal. The Sheriff was peering at the scans on the screen himself. Isaac was quietly trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Alpha, can we get milkshakes for lunch?” Stiles asked. He got the attention of everyone in the room. Derek looked bewildered. “Isaac, don’t you think he should take us for milkshakes after you’ve had a chance to put your own clothes on?” Derek’s confusion cleared.

Isaac latched onto the subject eagerly. “Yes! I absolutely need a milkshake for lunch today. First, I need to put on real clothes, because I cannot be seen in public like this, but milkshakes definitely need to be second on the list.” Isaac crossed his arms and fixed Derek with a look. Derek smiled fondly at Isaac while scrubbing a hand over Stiles’ hair.

“Of course. You can have whatever you want for lunch, Isaac.”

“Is that old soda shop diner that the Philps’ ran still open?” Peter asked. “They had that wonderful peanut butter-marshmallow flavor.”

Stiles shuddered. “That flavor is disgusting. But yes, Savvie’s is still open.” Peter eyed Stiles curiously. Stiles met his gaze evenly. Apparently Peter did remember Stiles bringing him a milkshake while he had been paralyzed. Stiles had had to make a huge fuss about it being his absolute favorite flavor to get the drink into the building. Thankfully, the doctor came in before anyone could could any further on that train of thought.

“I’m Dr. Metcalf. Sorry, but how do you--?”

Stiles took pity, “I go by Stiles.”

“It cannot be that difficult,” Peter muttered. Everyone ignored him.

“So, what’s the verdict, Doctor?” the Sheriff asked.

“I do have good news. It seems your son’s guardian angel was working overtime. All his bones are still solid, not even a single fracture. So the longest it should take for a full recovery is about a month. With bruised ribs, there’s not much you can do except wait for them to heal. Since you don’t have a fracture, you don’t really need the brace. If you want to wear it, I’d recommend you only wear it regularly for the next few days, no more than this week at the most, and you take it off to sleep. You really should try to limit your physical activity while you’re healing, if you’re doing something more strenuous, then that would be when you should brace them. Of course, you should take pain meds as you need them, but you shouldn’t need prescription strength. I think that’s about all I can tell you. It just takes some time.”

“Well, we’re glad it’s good news. Although I guess I’ll be shelling out twenty bucks a week to get the neighbor kid to cut the grass this month. But thank you for your time, Doctor.” The Sheriff and Dr Metcalf shook hands.

“Of course. Oh, son, do I need to write you out of a sport?”

“The season just ended. I’ll try to take it easy.”

“Good. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you again anytime soon.”

“Hopefully not,” Stiles agreed.

They all left the exam room. The doctor turned to go back towards the other rooms. Peter led the way back to the waiting room. Emily was still at the reception desk. She waved them off before they could approach.

“We’ll just send the bill after the insurance pays.”

“Thank you,” Stiles’ father said awkwardly. Stiles made a mental note to remind his dad to go ahead and move some money to one of the savings accounts so they could spread the cost over at least two months. Sheriffs were government employees and their insurance wasn’t that good, but it would take at least a few weeks to process.

As they were making their way back out of the hospital, the Sheriff’s radio went off. He had to go into the station to sign off on some of the paperwork, and they needed a recorded statement from him about the physical state that Erica, Boyd, and Stiles had been in the night before. He winced as he turned to Stiles.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know I said I’d take you to lunch.”

“It’s fine, dad. I know you’re working.” His father had become a deputy before Stiles was born. He had long since learned the drill. Sometimes his father could make time but if he was on the clock then obviously work had to come first.

“Sheriff, it’s not even eleven yet,” Derek pointed out. “And I’m sure Isaac’s not the only one who wants to get a shower and put on his own clothes. So we’d have to at least stop by my loft on the way to lunch. Stiles probably wants to clean up a little too. I can give you my address and you can call Stiles when you get done with that round of paperwork, see if we’re still there or headed to the diner.”

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely. “You’ll make sure he’s safe while I’m at the station?”

“We’ll protect him,” Derek swore. Peter nodded. Isaac straightened up, taking up space again.

“Alright, where do you live?” he asked. Derek rattled off an address. The street was on the edge of civilization, one of the buildings at the outskirts of what had been the industrial district.

“Do you hate me?” Stiles demanded.

“Empty, cheap, I own the entire building, newly bitten werewolves,” Derek hissed back at him. “Once it’s all renovated and the entire building, not just my apartment, passes the health inspection, I can take tenants.”

“Owning an apartment building is a good investment,” Stiles agreed. “Why couldn’t you buy one that’s not basically in a graveyard?”

“None of them are for sale because the few that aren’t still full up and making their owners too much money to sell are already torn down.”

“There had to be other options.”

Peter interrupted, “Wait until you see the wall of windows in his apartment before you back yourself into a corner here. The view isn’t great, but the light is wonderful.” Stiles eyed him suspiciously but shut up. The inside of the building might very well be wonderful. But it was its physical location he had been complaining about. All those abandoned factories and warehouses and office buildings were creepy. There were ten square blocks of empty buildings. The street Derek had named was two off from civilization. Everything around it was going to be creepy.

“You better buy a few of the buildings around it and get some of the businesses running. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would be creeped out at the idea of sleeping in the middle of all those abandoned buildings.”

Peter nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. We wouldn’t have to manage the businesses. We could just rent out the buildings and get some traffic to the area, incentives for people to live there.” 

Derek fixed him with a quelling look. “Immediate problems today. Business propositions tomorrow while Isaac’s at school.”

Peter conceded with a tilt of his head. “Fair enough.”

They had reached the parking lot by that time. Stiles’ father wrapped him in a gentle hug, mindful of his ribs.

“I’ll call you soon as I can get away.”

“Don’t rush. Your work is important.”

“See you soon. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, dad.” Stiles got in the Jeep with Derek, Peter, and Isaac. His father got in the cruiser and sped off.

“You want a shower and real clothes?” Derek asked. He was driving a little more carefully.

“That’d be nice,” Stiles nodded. He winced down at his ribs. “Uh. I think I’ll probably need some help. I know they said I’m not broken, but everything still hurts. I need some pain meds when we get home.”

“More of what the paramedics gave you yesterday or something less strong?” Derek genuinely seemed to be clueless. Of course, he was a born wolf and he had lost his pack before he could have been given any sort of real responsibilities. He probably had never dealt with a human injury where he was supposed to know what to do.

“I don’t know. I think try not to take the opiate. They usually put you in a fog, and it’d probably be better to save those to take at night so I can get to sleep. Humans heal best while we’re sleeping.”

“You’d know better than me,” Derek conceded.

“I think that sounds right,” Peter spoke up.

“That’s what I always did,” Isaac agreed.

“So it’s settled. I’ll take the highest recommended dose of Advil on the bottle.”

“We always had Tylenol,” Isaac said.

“Thins the blood more,” Stiles replied. “I do still have this mess on my cheek and a split lip.” Derek made a soft noise that sounded almost like a growl, but much less aggressive a tone than Stiles associated with growling. Isaac also looked confused, Stiles could see in the rear view. Peter was rolling his eyes.

“Honestly, nephew,” he muttered. Derek seemed to be pointedly ignoring Peter. So Stiles decided not to ask. Isaac must have come to the same conclusion, because it was a rather quiet drive the rest of the way.

Once they arrived at Stiles’ house, he quickly located the Advil, took the dose, and headed upstairs. Isaac followed him. Peter and Derek did not.

“Is it honestly manageable?” Isaac asked. Stiles was trying to pick out something clean to wear.

“Ask me again once the Advil kicks in,” Stiles answered. “But it’s not unbearable.”

“That’s good. I did have a fracture when I hurt my ribs. So I don’t know what just bruised is like in comparison. You smelled pretty awful driving back from the warehouses last night.”

“I had crashed through a wall. It’s a miracle that didn’t cause a fracture, even with the brace on.”

“Maybe some people do have guardian angels,” Isaac replied with a shrug.

“I suppose anything’s possible.” Stiles finally emerged from the closet with a clean graphic tee, clean plaid button up, and clean jeans. He grabbed a clean pair of boxers before heading to the bathroom. Isaac helped him pull his shirt off and get out of the brace. Stiles managed the shorts by himself, even though it hurt. Isaac just put his hand on Stiles’ side to brace him and didn’t say anything.

“You think you can manage?”

“I’m going to try. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“Nothing’s broken,” Isaac agreed. He leaned against the counter. Stiles turned on the water and climbed in the shower. He managed to get himself clean with only minor enough twinges. Isaac didn’t have to rescue him until he had already turned off the water and gotten out and realized he couldn’t get his legs dry.

It was two very quiet teenagers who descended the stairs again. Stiles was now clean and dressed, but having left the brace off like Dr. Metcalf had suggested. He was also dying of embarrassment, made almost worse by Isaac’s understanding silence on the matter. Of course, with what Stiles had pieced together of how Mr. Lahey had treated Isaac, it wasn’t surprising that Isaac would understand how pain made you reliant on others to do simple tasks. But it didn’t help the embarrassment Stiles was stewing in.

“Heavens, you didn’t drunkenly confess undying love. Stop stinking at me,” Peter grumbled. “I refuse to sit behind you in the car smelling like that. Don’t think I won’t stick my damn head out the window.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Stiles demanded.

“Confusion smells less affronting,” Peter smirked. Stiles glared.

“Well, you might be clean, but the rest of us are not. Did you grab your wallet? Cell phone? Got everything you need?”

“You still have my keys?” Derek held them up. “Then yes, I have everything I need.”

Stiles was pretty quiet on the drive over to the loft. Peter and Isaac were discussing clothing choices, talking about what they thought was clean as opposed to in the laundry basket. Derek was also fairly quiet, although he could occasionally point out that something was either definitively in the laundry or definitively clean.

The apartment building was exactly where Stiles had thought it was. The surrounding empty buildings were exactly as creepy as he had expected as well. But there was an attached parking garage. That was admittedly a nice feature. The elevator was straight out of a horror film, though. It took all of Stiles’ willpower not to cling to one of the werewolves in terror that the elevator was going to come crashing down. Derek insisted that the elevator was perfectly safe and much better than Stiles having to climb all those flights of stairs, since Derek was living in the top floor apartment. Stiles was not convinced.

As Peter had implied, the actual apartment was nice. Derek had minimal furniture, of course, but the wall of windows did bring in good light. The studio style floor plan was very open. The lofted area where the beds and bathroom were was also a nice touch. Sleeping in the living room was sort of weird. The kitchen was still in the process of renovation, but the major appliances did seem to be plugged in and humming with energy, so probably the fridge and stove worked.

They all went up to the lofted area. Stiles sat himself in the only chair not covered in clothes to keep out of the way. Derek grabbed the first clean clothes he saw and got first shower, while Peter and Isaac were still arguing about clothing choices.

Since Peter took less time to decide on clothing than Isaac, he got the second shower. Peter was also willing to let himself into the bathroom after they all heard the water turn off but before Derek had emerged. Isaac seemed more than content to wait. 

Derek emerged while Peter was still in the bathroom. Isaac was calmly waiting until Peter was entirely done to burst in.

“Yeah, I still don’t like the look of that,” Derek muttered mostly to himself. He came to a stop in front of Stiles. “Stand up.” Stiles stood. Derek cupped his jaw in one hand and tilted his head to the left with gentle pressure. What was he doing? Derek licked across the scrape on Stiles’ cheekbone. The flat of his tongue caused a bit of a sting at first but then it numbed a little. Stiles had not really noticed that it had still been achey. Derek swallowed. Then he licked over the wound again. He eyed it closely while swallowing again.

“It feels better,” Stiles admitted. “It was hurting some before.”

“Looks like it should start healing up better,” Derek agreed. “Now let me see about your lip.” He moved Stiles head so his chin was tilted up. Stiles’ brain stalled out. There was nothing in his head. His body froze. Derek lowered his mouth to Stiles’ lip and curled his tongue around the cut. Every cell in Stiles’ body was completely frozen in place. Derek pulled back mere seconds after the touch began. It had been an eternity. He gently thumbed at Stiles’ lip. It was barely tender at all. Derek swallowed again and took a step back. Stiles blinked. So. That had happened. Isaac looked equally surprised over Derek’s shoulder.

“Think that’s better,” Stiles agreed. His voice broke in the middle of the sentence. Derek genuinely seemed not to notice.

“Did you text Lydia that your ribs aren’t broken?” he asked casually. “You promised her you would.”

“Crap!” Stiles quickly pulled out his phone and sent Lydia a text. He told her that his ribs weren’t broken and that they were going to head to Savvie’s for lunch. Lydia answered, but at the same time his father called. Stiles took the call. “Hey, dad!”

“Hey, kiddo. I’m all wrapped up at the station. You boys still at Derek’s or have you already started heading for the restaurant?”

“We’re still here. There’s only one bathroom in the apartment, so Isaac hasn’t gotten his shower yet.”

“Alright. I’ll head that direction.” At that point, Peter walked out of the bathroom. Isaac hopped up and hurried into the bathroom for his turn.

“You better not have used all the hot water!”

“We’ll meet him at the door,” Peter said. “Don’t want him to be as concerned about the elevator as you were.”

“Peter and Derek are going to meet you at the door, okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll try not to keep them waiting.”

Stiles had this feeling that his father would only be a few minutes away, because he would have wanted to at least see where the building was if they had already left for the diner. Peter seemed to agree, if the way he led Derek out was any indication. Stiles stayed in the bedroom. He certainly wasn’t taking another trip in the elevator.

*

The Sheriff had no doubt that Stiles would know that he had driven out to check out the address the Hale kid had given him before calling his son. But he couldn’t help it. He had been a detective. What had this kid thought was worth the investment of buying the entire building? That would likely give him some insight. The building was at least only two streets away from what was still inhabited, although Stiles had been right about the abandoned industrial district being pretty creepy. The building that Derek had given the number for was a large concrete building. One of the ones made to withstand disasters, but not prettied up much on the outside. There were at least a lot of windows, and they seemed to all have solid glass in them – no broken glass or completely empty frames. It was clean, both the building and the grounds. It had an attached parking garage. Before the Fire had taken the Hales’ companies with it, and the recession had compounded the issue, this had likely been one of the more exclusive apartment buildings. Had it been a memory of that Derek had been focusing on when he bought the place?

He rounded the block and drove off through the abandoned buildings as he called his son. They were still at the apartment. So he would get to see what the Hale kid had prioritized fixing up first. How he had furnished his apartment.

He pulled back around to the apartment building. Derek and Peter weren’t outside yet. He still pulled into the parking lot and put his cruiser beside his son’s Jeep. He got out of his car and waited patiently. He was pretty sure he had heard something about the elevator being strange.

“You think I don’t know that alphas have even more healing enzymes in their saliva?” Peter was demanding. “The kid has a crush on you! You should have ignored his split lip entirely! It looks like a kiss. And Isaac was standing there. Teenagers like to blow things all out of proportion.”

“He was hurt!” Derek was protesting back. “Am I supposed to ignore that? He said it had still been hurting and he’d taken the medicine.”

“It was inappropriate!” Peter hissed.

“It was just to heal the cut! It wasn’t a kiss. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s debatable.”

“You being alive is debatable,” Derek shot back.

“I hear the Sheriff on the sidewalk. Any idea how far humans can hear?”

“I’m not positive but you should go ahead and shut up.”

“I am trying to keep you out of trouble,” Peter sounded amused. Someone made an aggrieved noise. Presumably that was Derek. They changed the topic to what was still available on the menu at Savvie’s. The Sheriff graciously pretended he had not heard the first topic echoing down the staircase they had walked down.

The elevator really did made a disturbing noise. It was no wonder that Stiles hadn’t also come downstairs to fetch him.

*

Lydia had replied that she and Jackson would be meeting them at Savvie’s. Stiles told her that Isaac had just gotten in the shower so it would still be a bit before they actually got there.

Then Stiles heard the elevator creaking back upwards. His father had been just around the corner, then. And he pretended like he wondered where Stiles got it from. Stiles headed down the staircase into the main room. There was no reason for him to be in a bedroom alone when his father walked in. Stiles put himself on the couch, the only seating, and stared down at his phone, the messages to Lydia open on the screen. That looked reasonable, didn’t it?

The elevator rumbled to a stop. Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath. The door to the loft slid open, revealing his father, Derek, and Peter. Stiles looked up as though he had not been intently listening and then pulled a face at his father.

“Light traffic, then?” he asked. “Isaac still hasn’t come down yet. We’ll have to wait a moment.” Stiles could see that Peter whispered something at Derek, but he looked back over at his father. No need to call attention to it.

“Very light. And it took a little less time than anticipated to get all the paperwork done. It was organized, for once.” Stiles would never understand why every time his father said something about the paperwork being unorganized it felt like a jab, but every time it did. His father turned to look at Derek. “Pretty nice place here. Looks like you’ve got a good start on getting the whole building ready for inhabitants. Do you have custody of Isaac?” Peter froze.

Derek stiffened. “Yes. Why?”

“Well, of course, there’s nothing wrong with minimalism. Certainly easier not to have to dust knick-knacks lying all over the place. But case workers are often women, and well, a couple of rugs or some curtains might not be a bad idea. An industrial building like this certainly has its own character, but perhaps might not give off a vibe of homey.”

“Oh,” Derek had gradually deflated. “Yes, of course. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That would be a simple, easy fix,” Peter added. He circled around Derek, heading back towards the staircase, only to suddenly stop and take a couple steps back towards Derek. Stiles’ eyes went up to the top of the stairs. Isaac was coming down.

“I like the minimalist look,” Isaac said as he reached the floor. “It does minimize the chore list.” Stiles sent another text to Lydia that Isaac was ready and they were leaving.

“Like I said, it’s a real nice place. Does that mean everyone’s ready for lunch?”

“Yes,” Derek nodded. “Everyone got their phones? Keys? Wallets?”

“Lydia and Jackson are meeting us at the diner.” Stiles announced. Derek smiled. “Also, I think you had my keys last.” Derek pulled the keyring out of his pocket and tossed it over. Stiles put them in his own pocket. Isaac had patted his own pockets down to double check and was nodding.

“Shall we go?” Peter herded them back out and to the elevator. Isaac scoffed but Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders when Stiles flinched as it lurched to a start.

“I’ll get the cords oiled so it stops making noise,” he promised.

“I really don’t see what the issue is,” Isaac muttered. “It’s just noise.”

“So are the earthquake sirens,” Stiles shot back. Isaac flinched.

“Stop poking at each other’s soft spots!” Derek snapped. “Everyone has something that scares them. It’s normal. You don’t need to throw it in their face.”

“Just because you both use sarcasm as a defense doesn’t mean you need to attack each other,” Peter agreed. “Pack defends itself from outsiders. It doesn’t destroy itself.”

“That too.” Derek fixed both of them with a look.

“I’m sorry, Isaac,” Stiles managed to say with a straight face.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac also managed to keep a serious expression.

“Well, that’s a miracle,” the Sheriff chuckled. Stiles gritted his teeth. Derek was looking around at everyone else in confusion. Isaac was side-eyeing the Sheriff. Peter also looked rather suspicious.

“I’ll bite,” Peter finally said. “What’s a miracle?”

“My son, apologizing! Normally he just tries to talk himself back out of whatever he talked himself into.” Stiles took a deep breath and kept his mouth shut. He had learned long ago that when his father gave these backhanded compliments there was no way to respond without somehow making himself look like the ass. Isaac’s mouth had briefly dropped open before clicking shut. Peter looked distinctly unimpressed.

“So, you did tell Lydia that the doctor said your ribs weren’t broken, didn’t you? She’s not still concerned about that?” Derek changed the topic.

“I told her. I also told her that we were going to the diner. So that way, she would know and when someone saw us all there if she heard about it, she wouldn’t think we had purposefully not included her.” On that note: “I better text Erica and Boyd too.”

“I can text Boyd,” Isaac offered, whipping his brand new phone out and quickly tapping at the keys. Stiles sent a text to Erica, making sure to mention that they would understand if her parents were too concerned to let her leave the house.

“Don’t pressure him to come. His parents are probably still really freaked out and might not want him to leave the house.”

“Good thinking,” Isaac’s fingers paused over the keys. Then he added something before sending it off.

The infernal elevator finally arrived at the bottom floor. Stiles bolted out onto steady ground. His father got into the cruiser. Peter and Isaac disappeared into the parking garage. Derek got into the Jeep with Stiles.

“That was an interesting comment.” Stiles did not reply. “From your father?” Derek waited again, but Stiles still wasn’t talking. He was driving. “Stiles, you going to give me anything?”

“He does that sometimes. He seems to genuinely think it’s a funny joke. Yes, I was upset. No, saying anything doesn’t help the matter. What else you want me to give you? My virginity?” Well… and this was why Stiles didn’t have many friends. Sometimes his mouth kept talking without consulting his brain.

Derek took a deep breath. Stiles felt it might have been extra loud on purpose so that he could ensure it was heard. “You were upset. I just wanted to know if I could help.”

“No. Sorry, alpha.”

“You’re forgiven.” Derek reached over and squeezed the back of Stiles’ neck. Stiles was going to have to have a long talk with himself about feeling safe with a predator’s teeth and claws at his throat. Soon. Hopefully it would not segue into the other talk Stiles had been putting off having with himself. It might. Stiles made a soft grumbling noise. “What’re you upset about now?”

“Absolutely nothing!”

“I don’t believe you. But we can drop it.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Eventually you do have to stop procrastinating dealing with things.”

“I’m aware. I haven’t reached that point yet.”

“Fair enough.” Stiles’ phone dinged. Derek picked it up from where it had been dropped in the cup holder. “Erica can’t come. Her parents are fussing. And Boyd also texted her that he wasn’t going for the same reason.”

“I thought so. But again, with making sure no one feels purposefully excluded.”

“I should have thought of that when you said Lydia and Jackson were joining us.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. I barely thought of it, and then only because I was explaining aloud why I’d told Lydia we’re going to the diner.”

Derek conceded with a tilt of his head. But he pouted silently for the rest of the car ride. Even pouting, he had a nice profile. Stiles kept his eyes firmly on the road as much as possible after that realization. Finally they arrived at Savvie’s. 

Stiles dug out a quarter for the fountain as he half-fell out of his Jeep. Lydia’s car was already parked. Peter was pulling into the parking spot on the passenger side. His father was parking near the exit to the road. He did that in the cruiser. Stiles flipped the quarter off his thumb. It landed perfectly between the paws of the tiny dragon statue. He then tapped the door on the brass knocker before pulling it open. Derek took the door and so Stiles led the way inside.

“Hello, little one!” Eva wrapped her free arm around him as she passed. “Your table’s open. Mind that nice man’s space, there at table four. He’s a good sort but he’s got his things all over that table.”

“Yes, Eva,” Stiles nodded. He gave table four a wide berth, the poor guy had papers and books all over the table, as he made his way to the back corner, by the kitchen entrance. Typically he sat in the booth, but the table with chairs beside it was also open. Lydia would probably prefer that with Peter around. She did. She sat primly on one edge. Jackson sat down beside her. Isaac sat beside him. Stiles put Peter on the opposite end from Lydia. Derek had taken the other end, across from Lydia, so Stiles ended up between Derek and Peter, and his father was beside Isaac.

The diner had been in the Philps family two generations already, so everyone already knew the menu. They ordered quickly. And then were sitting there realizing they had no idea where to start learning to interact with each other. None of them had been friends. But now they were pack, and only Derek and Peter really had any concept of what that was, but for them they had been born into the pack. It had to be different from consciously cultivating pack ties. But someone had to start somewhere.

“So, Lyds, what does your usual schedule look like?” Stiles asked. “Since the season’s over, we don’t have as much to schedule around.”

Lydia pursed her lips. Then she nodded. “I agree. We should try to get together regularly. That’s a good idea. Thursdays? Derek, what’s your schedule?”

“I can be flexible. Thursday sounds fine to me. We’ll have to check with Erica and Boyd.”

“Yes, I need everyone’s number. I only had Jackson’s and Stiles’ last night and that was a disaster.” Stiles smiled. Lydia was good at organizing things. Luckily Derek didn’t seem insulted. This was a start.


End file.
